


Heat

by Dracoduceus



Series: Words With Benefits [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha Hanzo Shimada, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies With Benefits, Knotting, M/M, Omega Jesse McCree, Sex Toys, Talon Hanzo Shimada, Teratophilia, Werewolf Hanzo Shimada, Werewolf Jesse McCree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 01:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20805992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracoduceus/pseuds/Dracoduceus
Summary: They say that hindsight is 20/20.If asked, there were a lot of things that McCree would do over for this mission. Speaking with Ange before he left instead of brushing her off was at the very top of the list. No doubt she would have given him another blocker.But he didn't and he went on a mission.And then he went into heat.





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

> From a poll I had taken back in July that turned into my "big" project for August. 
> 
> The prompt: It turns out that despite their secondary presentations, the lycanthropy virus still produces certain biological anomalies in its host. Or...alpha Hanzo getting knotted by omega werewolf McCree and mcloving it.

They say that hindsight is 20/20.

If asked, there were a lot of things that McCree would do over for this mission. Speaking with Ange before he left instead of brushing her off was at the very top of the list. No doubt she would have given him another blocker.

While it was true that it wasn’t impossible to function in heat, it was  _ annoying _ and incredibly uncomfortable. But hey, if women could do it on their periods without complaint, he could too.

Perhaps there was truth in the not-quite-joke that women were stronger than men and less prone to whining.

Still, he didn’t appreciate the heady cocktail of discomfort and arousal as he was tied to a chair and gagged while his captors decided what to do with him. It was doubly hard to function when he saw Hanzo sweep into the room.

All he needed was a cape to flare dramatically behind him, McCree thought to himself. But then, Hanzo didn’t actually need one, his mere presence enough to send lesser beings cowering.

What did it say about McCree that all it did was make him lightheaded with arousal? Then again, he could hardly be surprised that he was so turned on by Hanzo. His body still remembered those days and nights spent with the archer, still remembered that most wonderful kind of ache after their secretive trysts.

He held his tongue (not that he had much of a choice with the dirty rag they had shoved in his mouth) and watched. The thugs surrounding him were cowed by the power that Hanzo surrounded himself with, the faint glimmer of blue in his pupils and swirling around his arm.

(McCree couldn’t help but think of how that otherworldly sparkle faded in his presence, how Hanzo’s face softened. He was still a bastard and an asshole and his “loving” was more like fighting, but he was  _ human _ , at least. Not this strange kind of robot that stalked into the room.)

“What is this?” Hanzo asked, looking down his nose at McCree like he was a beetle crawling on his boot.

Hell, Hanzo could step on him with those metallic boots with grips like toe beans and McCree would fucking thank him.

_ Holy fuck _ he hoped that Hanzo couldn’t smell him but knowing Hanzo he probably could. A part of him wanted to pretend that that was because he was so agitated but with Hanzo he could never be sure. Most days during their trysts, McCree could more easily read the feelings of a brick wall than Hanzo’s true thoughts.

“We captured a spy,” one of the thugs said bravely.

“I’m surprised,” Hanzo replied and McCree tried not to smile when he saw how the thugs bristled at the implied insult.

He must have shown his amusement because the thug nearest him punched him and he wheezed in surprised pain. “Mind your own business.”

“I suppose it might be a spy’s business to know who he was captured by,” Hanzo said, voice sharp as a knife. Cowardly things that the thugs were, they darted out of Hanzo’s way as he stepped forward, right up to McCree. One of his calloused hands grabbed McCree’s chin roughly, wrenching his head to force him to look up at Hanzo.

It was a good thing, since McCree would have only stared at Hanzo’s dick, would have struggled to bury his face there and take a deep whiff.

Hanzo’s nose twitched but he otherwise gave no acknowledgement of McCree’s predicament. “Do you know who sent him?”

“No, sir,” one of the other thugs said. “But he was sticking his nose in everything that Marco wanted to nab him just in case. He thought it best to let you know.”

The thug evidently named Marco—the one that had punched him—turned. “Why you little—”

“So, you don’t know?” Hanzo interrupted frigidly. “And called me here for what might be a false alarm?”

The one that pushed Marco under the bus seemed emboldened by this. “I tried to tell them that we needed to figure it out first.”

Hanzo scoffed. “Leave us,” he ordered. “All of you.”

They scurried away, closing the door behind them. Hanzo leaned close into McCree’s space, his face as unreadable as ever. “What have you done, you silly thing?”

Unlike most, it wasn’t a teasing pet name. It should have irked McCree but he felt pinned beneath Hanzo’s intense stare. That in turn should have made him angry, should have gotten his hackles rising. He wasn’t no omega to roll over for an alpha, even an alpha that he fancied, like Hanzo.

But even as he was angry, he was soothed. If he was to die—because no matter what they were to each other, they would never ask the other to be a traitor—then at least it was at Hanzo’s hands.

“I thought you were better than this,” Hanzo continued, voice sharp like a whip. He undid the tie and pulled the rags out of McCree’s mouth. “Tell me why you have done so poorly as to get yourself caught like this.”

McCree stretched his jaw. “Don’t much matter now, do it?” he asked dryly. “Talon’s got me.”

“I am not Talon,” Hanzo was quick to tell him. His lips twisted downward in a disapproving frown. “I am only the step before Talon. So, tell me why you should continue past me. Why I should report you to my supervisors…or kill these thugs for wasting my time with a simple vagrant.”

For a moment, McCree’s concern for Hanzo warred with his sense of self preservation. “That would get you killed,” he said at last, very carefully. “There are stories of what Talon does to those who fail.”

“They are hardly true,” Hanzo replied, but it sounded like empty bravado. “Not for those assets of great value, and not for the one that Ogundimu believes he is Courting.”

Once more McCree found himself torn; this time it was between a surprisingly hot spike of jealousy and even greater concern.

“Don’t look so excited,” Hanzo told him drily. “Now tell me why I should let you go.”

“By all rights you shouldn’t,” McCree shot back. “Why are you giving me this chance, now?”

Hanzo wrinkled his nose. “Call it alpha sentimentality.”

“Chauvinism, you mean.”

He scowled but didn’t move to correct McCree. “Perhaps I am…fond of you.” It sounded like it was as difficult as pulling teeth for Hanzo to admit it.

“Fond enough to spit in Talon’s face?” McCree asked, unable to help himself. It was clearly a tender subject for Hanzo, but something in McCree made him want to press the issue. Like picking at a scab.

“Becoming less fond with every passing second.”

McCree grinned at Hanzo. It was more like a grimace, like a challenge. “This is like something out of a porno,” he said. “The big bad alpha and the poor, caught omega. Whatever shall I do to free myself?” he batted his eyes at Hanzo, feeling silly.

The expression on Hanzo’s face was thunderous. “This is your life or death,” he snarled. “And all you can do is make  _ sex jokes? _ ” He snarled, turned on his heel and left.

McCree sank back in his chair, relaxing against the rough ropes digging in to his arms and legs. This was it: his death. He had irked Hanzo enough to get reported to Talon. And there was no pretending that Hanzo didn’t know that he was affiliated with Overwatch.

There was no pretending that he would survive.

So, he sat there in silence, trying to figure out why he felt so calm. He would have thought that he would be desperate to free himself to do something; perhaps think about regrets or would-haves or those he’d leave behind without so much as a ‘goodbye’.

He wasn’t sure if Talon would keep him alive or perhaps just kill him for being such a thorn in their side. Most likely he’d end up like the Widowmaker, brainwashed beyond all understanding. He wondered if the real Amélie was still in there somewhere, watching the world through her own eyes but unable to do anything.

A dark thought, but this was a dark time.

This was his death.

The door behind him opened and McCree tensed. He heard Hanzo walking in, his metallic boots clicking.

McCree jumped when he felt Hanzo’s hands on his; a moment later, the ropes binding his arms loosened and Hanzo came around to his front, untying his legs. His knuckles were bruised and split.

“Come on,” Hanzo said shortly, not giving McCree much time to ponder what his split skin might mean. “We need to move.”

Though his legs were still tingling from the too-tight ropes, McCree stumbled after him as well as he was able to, making far too much noise than he would like. By the time they got out of the warehouse, he was moving on silent feet again, dogging Hanzo’s silent steps.

“Why?” McCree demanded when Hanzo paused, wheezing as he struggled to catch his breath. Hanzo paced the edges of the room like a caged tiger.

Hanzo bared his teeth in what could almost be called a sneer, a sparkle of blue in his eyes. “Why what?” he asked tightly.

“You know why,” McCree wheezed, leaning back against the dirty wall. It was a struggle to keep himself standing straight, to keep his lungs and chest open so he could breathe. “Why did you…I assume you killed them all?”

“I had to. If I left any one of them alive, they would have told Talon of what I had done.”

McCree squinted at Hanzo as he paced on the other side of the room. “Talon likely knows already,” he pointed out. “Their assets don’t go out alone—and if they had already called Talon once, they know that you’re out here. It would be mighty suspicious for you to go missing with their thugs dead.”

“Do you always ask so many questions?” Hanzo growled. He peered out the window. “We need to go,” he said before McCree could respond. “And we need to move fast. I can hide you in the forest—but we need to get there first. When I transform, climb on my back.”

“It will be faster if we both run,” McCree argued, already stripping off his clothes in preparation. He tucked everything into his flannel and used the sleeves and his belt to tie it in a neat bundle that he could hold in his jaws. Looking up, he found that Hanzo’s eyes were dark, trained on him; more blue light glittered over his body. “Hurry,” he pointed out. “You said we need to run. Let’s run.”

Hanzo began stripping down, using cords in his quiver to secure his bow and belongings in a bundle similar to McCree’s. “We need to talk about this later,” Hanzo said tersely.

“Later,” McCree agreed, privately amused that Hanzo seemed entirely surprised at his wolfish nature. “Lead the way,  _ alpha _ .”

Hanzo bared his teeth, already too long to be entirely human, and ducked into the alley. McCree followed, beginning his own transformation as soon as he was clear of the low awning over the door. He picked up his belongings in his jaws and eyed Hanzo’s three-tone brown fur.

Snorting, Hanzo finished his own inspection of McCree and took off running. McCree laughed to himself and followed.

* * *

They encountered few people as they ran, ducking down side roads and alleyways.

Strangely enough, McCree didn’t notice a Talon tail, or indication that the thugs’ bodies had been found.

It was far too quiet.

Hanzo led McCree deep in the forest to a quiet little cabin. “One of my safehouses,” Hanzo said tersely as he changed back.

“Why isn’t anyone following us?” McCree demanded.

“I spoke to my partner,” Hanzo growled. “She’s covering our trails.”

“So, she knows I’m here,” McCree said flatly. “Out of the fucking frying pan and into the fire.”

Hanzo snarled, walking naked into the cabin. “Leave or not, I care none.”

Tugging on his flannel and underwear—foregoing all other clothes for the moment—McCree followed Hanzo into the cabin. “I need to know why you’d turn traitor. Or didn’t you?” he taunted. “You just gonna turn me in again?”

Hanzo’s answering snarl was dangerous. “I will do no such thing,” he snapped as if insulted by the mere thought of it. “Why does it matter to you?”

“Because I want to know why,” McCree snarled back, shoving himself into Hanzo’s space. “Why you’d fucking risk your life for a quick fuck. Because ain’t that what you want? Some reward from a needy omega in heat for saving his damn life?” 

He could see Hanzo’s nose twitch as his scent hit him. Despite that, it was hard to tell if Hanzo’s eyes were so dark out of anger or arousal. “Perhaps I am fond of you,” Hanzo snarled.

“Alpha chauvinism,” McCree growled back, leaning closer, challenging. “Is that all?”

Hanzo shoved him back, twisted him so that his face was shoved against the cupboards and Hanzo was pressed in a hot line down his back. “Is that what you want?” Hanzo growled and holy hell, McCree could  _ feel _ his voice against his back. “For me to bend you over and mount you like I own you? Like I have any right to claim you? To call you mine?” 

Then Hanzo released him and when McCree turned around again, he found Hanzo on the opposite side of the room, a tortured look on his face. “For all my sins,” Hanzo said quietly, his voice low and so full of despair that McCree’s conviction wavered. “For all the things I’ve done, I would have thought that you would know that I would never do such a thing.”

He turned and left, walked into another portion of the house, leaving McCree alone with shaky knees and a confusing mix of arousal, disappointment, and regret. A moment later, he heard a door open and close. Even though he hadn’t actually  _ seen _ Hanzo leave, he knew instinctively that he had.

Hanzo, an alpha, left McCree,  _ an omega in heat _ , alone.

Had walked away from McCree’s advances, however mocking they were.

Had left McCree alone in his own personal safehouse—hadn’t he said that it was  _ his _ , not Talon’s?

_ God _ , McCree felt like an ass.

Nothing for it, he supposed. There was no sense in leaving—he was in just as much danger here as outside, and here at least he could make a proper nest and suffer through his heat. Rolling up his metaphorical sleeves, McCree ducked into the living areas and looked in all of the cabinets for the extra blankets and pillows.

Predictably, Hanzo had very few—the man seemed allergic to self-care or nice things for himself—but he did have a nice collection of worn shirts. They were clean, smelling like detergent and whatever Hanzo put in his closet and drawers to keep them from getting musty. McCree imagined that he could still smell Hanzo on them and clung to that idea with both hands.

He was digging around for more of Hanzo’s things to fill his nest with when he stumbled on a locked box in the bedroom closet. It was too small to be much of a weapon’s chest and despite himself, McCree was intrigued.

The box was filled with all manner of toys and McCree felt almost embarrassed for seeing them. Hanzo had clearly hidden them away for a reason—either for privacy or because the damn alpha was repressed as shit.

The longer that McCree stared, the more he realized that it was probably the second. He found bottles of lube and toy cleaners but not a sign of a sheath toy…instead they were all penetrative toys. Suction cup dildos of varying sizes, novelty dildos,  _ a fucking ovipositor _ and the molds to make the eggs.

Almost all of them had thick knots at the base. 

Wrenching himself away, McCree closed the box and shove it into the back of the closet once more. It wasn’t his place to judge another man’s vices.

He was really tempted to take one, though. Maybe see if Hanzo had some condoms somewhere just in case. It would make his heat shorter but infinitely more miserable.

Cold silicone couldn’t take the place of a warm body.

McCree returned to his nest, twisting the blankets and pillows together and then burrowing himself beneath it. Steeling himself against a long and miserable heat, McCree closed his eyes.

* * *

He must have been asleep for some time because when he woke up, it was to a large bowl of stew on the bedside table. There was flatbread as well and a bowl of spiced rice, and McCree fell upon the food gratefully.

Flatbread wouldn’t make crumbs in his nest and the rice was large enough for him to pick out the stray grains that had weaseled their way in.

When he sat up properly, he found that there was a large pitcher of water as well—still dewy with condensation—which he drank deeply from. He was loathe to leave his nest but the food and water meant that someone was there.

By now the heat had set in properly, making his bones and muscles ache. He felt cold, felt the urge to cuddle up to someone nice and warm, who would hold him tight.

_ God _ he hoped Hanzo was still there.

Gathering his dishes, McCree shuffled down the hall to the kitchen and found Hanzo still washing the dishes. He seemed oblivious to McCree’s presence, his head down as he scrubbed at the pot in the sink—the same pot used to make McCree’s stew.

“Thank you,” McCree and Hanzo jumped, spinning around in alarm. Belatedly he realized that Hanzo was dressed only in a sauce-splattered apron, naked no doubt from his shift from wolf to man.

Hanzo watched him warily, appearing to be holding his breath. “You’re welcome,” he said faintly and turned back to washing the dishes.

Hesitantly, McCree put down his dishes and brushed his knuckles against the bare skin of Hanzo’s back. The alpha twitched but doggedly ignored McCree. That just wouldn’t do.

McCree wrapped his arms around Hanzo’s waist and buried his face in the back of Hanzo’s neck. He smelled like sweat, like his lupine nature. Like an alpha.

“McCree,” Hanzo said, sounding pained.

“No,” McCree told him grumpily. “When are you coming?”

Hanzo sucked in a breath. “McCree.”

“No,” McCree said, nosing at Hanzo’s ear. “I’m sick of this. Come and join me.”

“I shouldn’t,” Hanzo breathed.

McCree snorted. “Come on,” he grumbled. “Just…please. We don’t need to do anything you don’t want just…please just at least…be there.”

Turning, Hanzo caught McCree’s cheeks in his wet, sudsy hands. His eyes were dark, nearly wild; his pupils had expanded until only the faintest ring of gold, a hint of his wolfish nature, was visible. “You have no idea how much I want,” Hanzo said quietly, with such intensity that McCree’s stomach twisted itself in knots. “But you’re in heat—”

“Heat don’t mean that I’m out of my mind,” McCree snapped. “It ain’t like I’m drunk or high or nothing.” He took a deep breath. “Just…I’m miserable as all hell right now. A warm body…would do wonders.”

He could understand a different aspect of Hanzo’s hesitance, though. They had never done something like this before. It had always been a quick tryst, occasionally sleeping over for another round in the morning before they parted ways. They had always pretended that they shouldn’t hate each other—that Hanzo wasn’t Talon and that McCree wasn’t Overwatch. That McCree didn’t know of Hanzo’s sins or if they did deign to acknowledge this fact, it was as an excuse to be rougher with each other. 

This, though? This was different.

This was McCree’s heat, something deeply personal to an omega. Asking Hanzo to be there was…well, it wasn’t so much taking a step into unchartered territory as it was taking a diving leap into it.

It was new to them and not even really being friends…complicated things.

But even now, even with those doubts, McCree  _ wanted _ . Just the thought of having Hanzo there—there in his nest, close by where McCree could bask in his warmth and scent—was enough to drive him crazy. And if Hanzo fucked him through his heat?

Icing on the cake.

It most certainly would ruin all other heats, though. Nothing would ever compare to even this awkward moment in the kitchen.

Perhaps Ana was right—he  _ was _ a sentimental fool.

Hanzo must have found what he was searching for in McCree’s eyes because he sighed and nodded once, tersely. “Let me finish cleaning up,” he said, somehow managing to sound both excited and reluctant. “And then I will join you in your nest…if you haven’t changed your mind.”

Boldly, McCree leaned in, scenting Hanzo.

Pressing a dry kiss to the side of his throat. To his cheek.

“Alright,” McCree croaked, forcing himself to back up a step. “Don’t be long.”

Hanzo swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. “I won’t,” he promised in a rough voice.

It was more difficult than McCree had ever imagined to shuffle back to his nest. He felt light-headed with need and ground his teeth to keep from jumping Hanzo again.

Instead he opened the closet again, found the crate of toys. Looking more carefully, he found a packet of condoms and ripped one off the string, then took one of the half-used bottles of lube. He stole towels from the closets and bathroom to keep his nest from getting too gross.

Then, supplies gathered, he prepared an ambush. In hindsight it was a shitty thing to do, trying to play on Hanzo’s repressed instincts. He seemed eager enough to serve the role of traditional alpha in their previous trysts and no alpha would turn down the chance to fuck an eager omega in heat.

For a moment, he completely forgot that he was waiting for Hanzo. The dildo he had chosen was just right, just large enough to stretch him so deliciously. A false knot bumped up against his hole and McCree whined high in his throat at the thought of taking it, of it plugging him up. 

Oh Christ, just the  _ thought _ of Hanzo taking this, of pushing himself back on that thick knot was enough to get him seeing stars, his toes curling in anticipation. 

The door opened and he heard Hanzo hiss in a sharp breath, swearing quietly, reverently, in Japanese. 

McCree turned his head to look at Hanzo whose face was flushed, whose cock was visibly hard in his nudity, whose eyes were  _ hungry _ . He nudged the toy deeper and groaned, not entirely for dramatics alone. It felt  _ nice _ —more than nice if he was telling the truth—and it had been so long since his last tryst with Hanzo…

“Would you like me to leave?” Hanzo asked and McCree almost didn’t hear the question over the wet sounds of the dildo. 

He licked his lips and twisted to look at Hanzo to find him halfway out the door and backing up quickly. 

“No!” he gasped. “No, no, no.” 

Hanzo frowned. “No?” he asked. “I should give you privacy. I shouldn’t even be here.” 

Gritting his teeth, McCree glared at Hanzo. Was he always this dense? What did he ever see in this stupid alpha? “No,” he hissed. “Get over here. And  _ mount me _ .” 

Though he could see Hanzo’s nose twitching, his eyes dark and his skin flushed with want, he was still frustratingly calm. 

Rational. 

“I do not want you to regret this,” he said, voice trembling. McCree could see his hands shaking too, his knuckles white as he gripped the doorframe. “I do not want you to wake up tomorrow and wonder why I am there.” 

McCree wondered where Hanzo had gotten such a stupid idea. He thought wistfully that perhaps they should have discussed this before the shit hit the fan. That they should have had a contingency plan or some understanding before going into...this. Whatever this was. 

To be fair, this was hardly something that McCree expected to happen. Normally he was all doped up on suppressants that he almost never had heats...except that Ange had cut back on his dosage after his last injury. 

Annoyed—at himself, at Hanzo for being just that fucking  _ dense _ —McCree huffed. “Get. In bed,” he said, biting off each word in a way that he hoped that Hanzo knew that he was being serious. “Get in bed  _ and fuck me _ .” 

“That would hardly help,” Hanzo murmured but after a pause he did climb in bed with McCree. 

Slowly. Achingly,  _ stupidly _ slowly. 

It seemed that he would be taking initiative, then. Once that idiot alpha was in his nest, McCree dragged him closer and boldly buried his face in Hanzo’s neck. The wolf in him hungered, demanded that McCree press Hanzo down and mount him; the omega in him demanded that he be the one to be mounted. As a strange kind of compromise, McCree twisted them both so that Hanzo was on his back and McCree was sitting astride his thighs. Now he could feel Hanzo’s cock, could rut their hips together while McCree scented him. 

“This is ridiculous,” McCree growled, his lips brushing against Hanzo’s neck as he absently ground his half-hard cock against Hanoz’s hip. “Mount me, damn you.” 

But Hanzo had fallen strangely still, didn’t even seem to be breathing. There wasn’t even a token argument anymore, as if Hanzo were entirely distracted by something else. 

Annoyed, McCree huffed, considered being an ass but in the end decided against it. Though he wanted to ask Hanzo what kind of alpha he was that didn’t want to fuck an omega in heat, he knew better than to do so. 

He knew that Hanzo was alpha through and through...and a good one, no matter how dense he seemed now. A good alpha and a good man. And good with his dick, which always filled him just right. Good with his knot, gentle in the aftermath of their secretive trysts while they both came down from coming their damn brains out. 

Hanzo was also a prideful bastard and if McCree teased him now, there was a pretty good chance that he wouldn’t get the dicking he wanted. 

Or rather…

McCree peered closer at Hanzo, who was looking down between their bodies and who was not reacting to being put in such a delicate position, his chest and throat and belly all exposed. Growling, McCree sat up and looked down at Hanzo. 

“Well?” he growled. 

Hanzo’s eyes remained on McCree, his breath coming shallow. Following his gaze, McCree realized that he was looking at McCree’s cock, now hard and flushed and beginning to leak. 

No, McCree realized as he remembered the chest of toys, remembered that nearly all of them had a false knot at the base. He was staring at McCree’s  _ knot _ . 

He watched Hanzo for a while as he thought, leaning back as if to show off more of his body. Beneath Hanzo’s gaze, his cock twitched, a drop of precome beading and falling to Hanzo’s belly. In their previous trysts, Hanzo had always been the one penetrating: it was easier, McCree’s body more easily able to take it. 

And it wasn’t like McCree minded too much, given how well Hanzo was able to use his dick. How he was rarely selfish about it. Their trysts were so rarely short, instead lasting long into the night or into the next morning while Hanzo made McCree come again and again. 

It was a shame that McCree hadn’t asked him to be his heat partner before. What had he been thinking? With Hanzo, it would have been over in a night. 

(Not that McCree would have let Hanzo stop after  _ only _ one night.)

It was certainly a myth that omegas needed to be bred during their heats, doubly so for McCree given his lycanthropy. The wolf in him demanded to breed, to fuck and knot a mate; the omega in him demanded that he fill his nose with his partner’s scent for the rest of the week. Truthfully, it was all a matter of how he wanted to interpret the demands of his body. 

Given Hanzo’s hungry stare on his knot, McCree doubted that he would object. 

So he leaned close and took a deep whiff of Hanzo’s scent: sweat, spices from cooking and the scent of disinfectant from cleaning; the earthy scent of the forest and the musty smell of his lupine form. Hanzo tried to protest, tried to put forward some kind of token resistance but McCree growled and Hanzo fell still. 

McCree could feel him fully hard against his hip and bared his teeth, pleased, against Hanzo’s throat. “What’cha say?” he asked huskily, drunk on the alpha’s submission. He could hear the drawl that he normally suppressed creeping back into his voice. “What’cha think about changin’ things up? ‘Stead of you mountin’ me...I get to mount you, huh?” 

Beneath him, Hanzo shuddered, his cock twitching eagerly; a drop of precome welled up and fell, tracing the fat vein on the underside. He didn’t say anything, biting his lip and looking away. McCree would have thought that it was in shame—a part of it likely was—but the way that Hanzo tilted his head ever so slightly was out of  _ submission _ , not embarrassment. 

Just to drive the point home, McCree pressed his lips to Hanzo’s throat. “I found your toys,” he said needlessly—he  _ had _ been fucking himself on one of them when Hanzo walked in, after all. “All of them have knots. Were you thinking about this?” 

Hanzo’s silence, even when faced with a question, was worrisome. In their previous encounters, he had been assertive but not demanding, communicative but not chatty. Now Hanzo was silent and though his eyes were dark and his body was flushed with desire (or so McCree hoped), even though his knot was swelling and his cock hard and flushed, he had said nothing. 

In hindsight, perhaps McCree shouldn’t have tried to bait him. That would probably account for some of his silence as well—wondering if he  _ needed _ to do this for McCree’s heat, if this was a necessary part of making him comfortable. 

McCree pulled back. “Is this what you want, Hanzo?” he asked more seriously. 

After a pause, the alpha bared his teeth at McCree. “Is that not obvious?” he growled. “Get on with it.” 

“Then say it,” McCree growled. “I ain’t taking what’s not mine. Tell me that you want this outside of my heat. Tell me that you want me, that you don’t want to do this because you think you need to, because you think I want you to say yes.” 

Hanzo scowled at him. “If I did not want to be here, I wouldn’t,” the liar said. 

Baring his teeth at Hanzo, McCree leaned down over him. “You would,” McCree growled. “And you know it. You’d think that the big, strong alpha needs to protect and care for the needy omega.” 

Tellingly, Hanzo didn’t deny it. Instead he looked away and McCree climbed off of him.Hanzo watched him, a frown on his face. He didn’t look  _ angry _ , or rather he didn’t look angry at  _ McCree _ for calling his bluff. 

“I don’t  _ need _ you,” McCree told him. He knew that Hanzo knew this as well, but it was different  _ knowing _ and an entirely different matter to  _ hear _ it. “I  _ want _ you.” 

Hanzo turned his head away. “I can’t imagine why,” he said and McCree scoffs. Here he is, talking about not understanding why McCree would want him, all the while lying buck ass naked beneath McCree, with his dick out and his knot flushed.  _ God _ , he really knew how to pick them.

“It’s not too late for me to kick you out,” McCree threatened. He was  _ aching _ now. The toy was looking more and more appealing, if only for its immediacy in resolving his... _ issue _ . 

He shifted when Hanzo pushed at his chest, letting the alpha shift him aside. McCree’s stomach sank. Had he pushed too hard? Had he read it wrong? He hadn’t lied when he said that he wanted Hanzo and he wouldn’t deny that he’d be disappointed if he left McCree to his own devices. 

But Hanzo only moved, kneeling and spreading his legs. McCree felt heat pooling in his groin when Hanzo leaned forward, not taking his eyes off of McCree’s, and rested his head on his crossed forearms. 

_ Presenting _ . 

Hanzo’s face was flushed and McCree was certain that it wasn’t only because of the position, but his voice didn’t waver. “I want you to mount me,” he said. “And knot me.” 

Well. McCree was only human, after all. Well... _ mostly _ human, anyway. 

“Fuck,” he said eloquently, and fumbled for the bottle of lube. 

Hanzo’s breath hitched when McCree ran his lube-slick fingers over his hole. “That’s the idea,” he hissed. “Hurry up.” 

Gulping, McCree dipped two of his fingers in. It was too fast too soon but Hanzo still hissed and groaned and bucked back, shoving McCree’s fingers deeper. “Don’t wanna hurt you,” McCree growled and used his other hand to press into the back of Hanzo’s neck. The alpha immediately stilled, his eyes wide. 

McCree would have thought that it was alarm—this was a very compromising position after all, and usually it was only alphas in rut or pronography that held the neck to hold their partner still—if Hanzo had not groaned and whined, his face flushed and red. 

“You like that?” McCree found himself asking, slowly twisting his fingers in Hanzo’s incredible heat. He was  _ tight _ too, twitching around McCree’s fingers as he tried to get used to the intrusion. Despite the pain that had to be zinging up Hanzo’s spine, his cock was still hard and leaking, his knot still flushed. McCree let go of Hanzo’s neck to better watch his fingers fucking the alpha, preparing him to take an omega’s unusual knot.

Hanzo whined when McCree pulled his fingers out and groaned, eyes squeezing shut, when McCree returned with three. 

_ Too fast _ , McCree tried to tell himself but his blood was rushing in his ears. His eyes were trained on Hanzo’s pretty hole, wet with lube and flushed pink, as it stretched around his fingers.  _ Too fast, too much _ . 

He could probably stop himself—he really  _ should _ —but as soon as he had that thought he peeked down at Hanzo’s cock and was just in time to see a large drop of precome well up and fall. Licking his lips, McCree twisted his fingers, spreading and rubbing just to watch Hanzo’s pretty cock twitch, just to listen to the muffled, broken sounds that Hanzo made. 

“Enough,” Hanzo growled as McCree poured more lube on his shaking fingers. “Mount me.” 

They always did say that temptation showed its way in many forms. 

McCree swallowed around a dry throat. “My knot’s a bit bigger than three fingers,” he said breathlessly. 

Twisting his head, Hanzo glared at McCree over his shoulder. It might have been more impressive if his face wasn’t so pink, if his eyes weren’t so hazy. “ _ Mount me _ ,” he snarled and the dichotomy of it made McCree’s head spin: a phrase only heard by omegas (and in pornography) uttered with an alpha’s most demanding voice. 

It made the wolf in McCree snarl. Thus far it had been rather passive, seeming to understand that it would get to knot a willing mate,  _ soon _ ; now it responded to the challenge in Hanzo’s voice. 

_ Now _ , it demanded and McCree shuddered. 

“Wait,” he said instead, nearly dropping the lube. He used what was on his hands to slick his cock and put the lube aside to find the toy. 

Fortunately it hadn’t rolled far with all their moving around and even better, the condom hadn’t slipped off. Just to be an ass he knelt down where Hanzo could see him, where Hanzo could watch him ease the plug into his own eager hole. McCree gasped, shuddered when he reached the knot. It had been so long since he had been properly knotted—or at least, that’s what his body was telling him.  _ He needed this _ . 

They both groaned when the knot slipped in, settling snugly so that it brushed his prostate with every little movement. If he didn’t move fast, he might pop his knot too early but even then McCree couldn’t find it in himself to be too bothered. His heat would last a while longer and even if he knotted too early, he was fairly certain that Hanzo would be more than happy to take the toy’s place, if only out of frustration. 

The thought was appealing, but nowhere near as appealing as mounting the proud alpha as demanded and watching him squirm on his knot. 

He looked at McCree with a ragged smirk. “Didn’t wanna be left out’a the fun,” he slurred.

_ Already knot-drunk _ , a voice in him that sounded like Hanzo at his most annoying said.  _ Shameful. _

McCree groaned as he sat up, feeling the plug—and the false knot—shift deliciously in him. He groped along on the bed and groaned again when he remembered that he had only grabbed one condom, which he had used on the toy. “Shit.” 

“What?” Hanzo demanded. 

“Don’t got a rubber.” 

Hanzo snorted. “Don’t care,” he growled. He looked suddenly nervous. “Unless you do.” 

It was an enormous concession, given how his hips had taken to wiggling like an omega wordlessly begging for an alpha to mount them. 

Growling, McCree moved and groaned again when the plug in him shifted. He could feel his own knot throbbing in sympathy. 

In a burning need to feel Hanzo’s hole clenching deliciously around him.

His hands shook as he used a handful of lube to slick himself. Even that touch felt like too much and he gasped breathlessly. “Fuck,” he hissed and lined himself up with Hanzo’s pretty hole. 

They both groaned when McCree sank in slowly, so slowly. Hanzo was  _ tight _ , but even though McCree had expected it, it still felt like a suckerpunch to the gut. Tight and hot and the sight of his slick hole stretching to take even just the tip of his cock was almost too much. 

“More,” Hanzo growled when McCree stopped. The muscles of his back were slick and shiny with sweat and McCree wanted to lean down and have a taste, to catch the drops pooling between his shoulder blades. The burning need to  _ watch _ though, was greater. 

When Hanzo struggled to push himself back, to impale himself further on McCree’s girth, he growled and pressed a big hand to the back of Hanzo’s neck again. It seemed that was all that Hanzo wanted because he fell still and silent except for his wheezing breaths. His mouth fell open at some point, his lips wet. 

McCree groaned as he eased himself deeper. It was toeing the line of being overwhelming: the toy’s false knot stretching him open, the heat and tightness around his cock. He’d probably come embarrassingly quick, but by the way that Hanzo was acting already, he probably wouldn’t mind so much. 

“More,” Hanzo demanded, voice muffled. Despite McCree’s hand pinning him down, he still tried to rock back. 

Growling—was this not enough for him? Or was he just this greedy?—McCree  _ shoved _ his hips forward. 

Hanzo wailed, a sound that went straight to McCree’s knot. Snarling his hips began rocking, feeling his knot bumping roughly against Hanoz’s hole. 

“Don’t think you got any room in there for my knot,” McCree snarled, a distant part of him noting that his voice had gotten deeper. The hand on the back of Hanzo’s neck was shaggier too, and his nails were beginning to turn black. 

If Hanzo noticed he didn’t seem to mind, curling his fists in the towels and blankets of McCree’s nest as he was fucked like an omega. 

“Fuck,” McCree growled and adjusted himself. He braced both hands over Hanzo’s shoulders, adjusted his stance, and fucked harder into Hanzo, his mind too overwhelmed to think of anything else. Not the arch of Hanzo’s back, not the way his legs trembled and threatened to give way. He could only focus on the heat that he wanted around his knot, the sweet cries as Hanzo wailed. 

Of the distracting way the toy in him ground against his prostate. 

Hanzo howled again and somehow got even  _ tighter _ , something that McCree hadn’t thought possible. It was because he was  _ coming _ , McCree realized belatedly. Coming without being touched, just from being fucked, from feeling a knot bumping against his tight hole. 

Just the thought of his knot being buried deep was enough to rocket McCree to the edge. Sucking in a deep breath, McCree forced himself to stop.  _ No _ , he growled to himself. Not until he knotted Hanzo. 

“Hold yourself open for me,” McCree snarled, feeling it rumbling through his chest. 

Hanzo was still shuddering beneath him, his face bright red. The muscles of his back were twitching and his arms were limp. He looked like a mess, drooling like an omega in some seedy pornography. 

“You wanted this knot, didn’t you?” he growled and dug his claws into the bed. “If you want it, you gotta open yourself up for me, sweet. You’re too damn tight for it.” 

Weakly, one of Hanzo’s arms moved. It was shaking as he reached behind him and grabbed his own ass, digging his fingers in as he pulled one cheek aside. The other arm took some wiggling, during which time Hanzo clenched around him. He groaned, gasped, hiccupped until he was able to grab the other cheek and spread himself wide.

Reluctantly McCree leaned back, looking down to where they were joined. He whined, high and canine, when he saw the ruin of Hanzo’s hole. How wrecked would it be when he was done with it? His mouth ran dry when he thought of how flushed and tender it would be when he was done, how it would leak with McCree’s come. 

Growling, McCree  _ pushed _ , digging his toes— _ claws _ , he amended mentally when he heard the sound of fabric ripping—into the bed. 

Hanzo wheezed, his fingers digging into his own flesh. When McCree pulled out, just a little, he whined needily, his eyes searching for McCree’s over his shoulder. 

“One sec,” McCree growled, voice deeper and rougher with the hints of his change taking over. “Hold on.” His cock slipped from Hanzo’s hole with a wet sound and for a moment McCree was mesmerized by the bruises that Hanzo was pressing into his own skin, by the red gape of Hanzo’s hole, wet with lube. 

It needed more—that’s why he had stopped, he remembered. He drizzled more on Hanzo’s tailbone and watched it slide over Hanzo’s sweaty skin as it dripped down toward his gaping hole. 

Licking his lips, which were beginning to feel more like a muzzle, McCree ran his cock—pink and tapered now though his knot hadn’t changed—over the leftover slick. 

“McCree,” Hanzo hissed and McCree grinned. Despite the pool of come between his knees, Hanzo’s cock was still hard and flushed, his knot still bright red and swollen. He’d be oversensitive now and McCree wondered if he could get him to come again. 

“I hear ya,” he growled, wiggling his hips and lining his cock up once more. It made the toy still buried in him shift and wiggle tantalizingly. He sighed, the sound coming from somewhere deep in his chest, as he slowly sank back into Hanzo’s heat. “Fuck, we gotta do this more often. You feel like heaven.” 

Hanzo made a breathy sound. “Hurry up.” 

“Ain’t in no rush,” McCree grumbled though now that he was reminded, he felt his knot tingling with the need to lock tight. He eased himself back over Hanzo, bracing his clawed hands over his shoulders. 

His movement and wiggling nudged Hanzo’s legs wider and he gasped; suddenly the way was easier and McCree hilted himself in one easy push. Hanzo’s hands fell to catch himself, to brace himself from suffocating beneath McCree’s weight. 

McCree growled. “This the first time you took a knot?” he asked, though he was fairly sure of the answer. He grumbled, feeling Hanzo’s muscles twitch and spasm around his knot, closing his eyes against the feeling. “Fuck you’re tight.” 

“More,” Hanzo hissed. 

Grumbling, McCree bucked his hips, careful not to let his knot pop out. After all that work he’d hate for it to slip out, not when it was beginning to swell again. He moved his hips in tiny little circles, grinding his knot deep and Hanzo made another wounded sound, shuddering around McCree. 

“Here,” McCree muttered, drawing one of his hands down the front of Hanzo’s body. He found Hanzo’s cock, still leaking; he found his knot and gripped it tightly.

Hanzo  _ howled _ , clenching so tightly around McCree’s knot that he saw white. He wasn’t sure if Hanzo came, too lost in his own pleasure as he shoved into Hanzo with wild abandon. His knot swelled, locking tight, as he came hard enough to see stars. 

When he could finally feel his extremities again, McCree very carefully eased them on their sides. It tugged on his oversensitive knot, made him shudder, but he wasn’t sure that he could hold himself up the way they were. 

Against his chest, Hanzo was shaking, his hole still spasming around McCree’s knot. Panting, McCree buried his nose in Hanzo’s neck and took a deep breath: he smelled like sweat and sex and McCree grinned to himself. 

“Best way to spend a heat,” he grumbled into Hanzo’s neck. “Think you got more in you?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Love it? Hate it? Let me know!
> 
> I post more about my monthly polls and prompts on Twitter, so you can yell at me there at [Dracoduceus](https://twitter.com/dracoduceus).
> 
> Thank you for making it this far. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> ~DC


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